


Ravens and Revolution

by InkingChaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALL THE TRAUMATIZED PRETEENS, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And they adopt Harry, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Draco is sorted into Ravenclaw, Draco-centric, Dumbledore what were you even thinking, Families of Choice, Fix-It, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Is An Ass, Multi, Narcissa knows whats up, Professor McGonagall is a gift to this universe, Remus gets his dog boy back, Sirius is free bunny, THANK YOU MCGONAGALL, THEY DESERVED EVERYTHING AND GOT NOTHING, and then Draco too because why not, give-these-tired-wolf-boyfirends-a-break campaign, golden trio + draco, im serious, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkingChaos/pseuds/InkingChaos
Summary: The only thing Draco Malfoy has ever wanted is to make his parents proud, to carry on the Slytherin family legacy and prove himself worthy of his father's scant attention and his mother's smiles.But when Draco's expectations go one way and the sorting ceremony another, Draco is forced to face more than just his father's 'disappointment'.Narcissa, fearing for her only son, reaches out to the last person she'd ever thought she would– her cousin; recently freed from the confines of Askaban after eleven years of false imprisonment, who has also come to have a charge of his own– a young mister Harry Potter, new to the world of magic and placed in Sirius's custody in light of the Dursley's mistreatment.But with this strange new family and his new place in Ravenclaw house, Draco may just learn that there is more to his potential than just the dark old Malfoy legacy.





	Ravens and Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> Because there are so many things I wanted to go differently.   
> And here is where I'm going to start.

The inside of Madam Malkin’s is lit by a soft yellow glow that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time; Draco keeps meaning to ask her what spell she uses. The soft light is comforting, banishes the shadows in the corners and illuminates the secrets swept under the rugs. He stops just short of his father, letting his gaze wander around the crowded shop until it settles on a rack of shoelaces charmed to spin in a circle. 

They haven’t been waiting long, a minute at the most, when Lucius raps his cane on the counter before them, ignoring the bell entirely. Draco’s spine straightens out entirely at the first crack of the metal snake head on the surface, by the third his heart’s racing and he’s inching back and away from his father. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” Madam Malkin calls as she comes bustling from the back fitting room. Her voice gives away her irritation at Lucius’s impatience. Draco wonders if she knows it’s them or not yet, surely no one would dare use such a tone of voice with his father. When she does catch sight of them standing there, a good deal of colour drains from her face. 

“Mister Malfoy! What can I help you with today?” The words leave her mouth so fast she nearly trips over them trying to make amends for an imaginary slight. Draco can all but feel the smirk he knows is present on his father's face, Lucius is unnaturally fond of the fear his blood status brings. Or maybe it’s just his name, Draco’s never been sure. 

Lucius gestures in Draco’s general direction with his cane, startling Draco back a step in the process,

“My son is in need of school robes, Slytherin will do nicely.” A single tooth on the cane’s head catches on the front of Draco’s shirt where it made contact with him when Lucius gestured to him. Having made his point Lucius goes to pull the cane back to his side, popping a single button free in the process.

Three sets of eyes watch button bounce three times before it rolls under a display case filled with an abundance of colourful neckties. 

Lucius’ expression darkens sharply, and Madam Malkin lets a nervous laugh bubble up from her chest.

“Yes yes very good, this way young master.” She says quickly, and ushers Draco towards the back of the store before either of them can become subjects of his father’s ire.

He follows her through the maze of clothing racks into an already occupied fitting room. A boy his age stands in the center of the room, an oversized robe hanging from his shoulders.

“Hello, Hogwarts too?” 

Draco’s voice is momentarily muffled by the robe Madam Malkin drops over his head, not enough for the boy with the messy black hair to have not heard him, but just enough to mask the tremor still lingering in his voice.

“Yes.” The boy is clearly rather afraid to talk about too much. The monosyllabic response and how he keeps looking at his feet remind Draco an awful lot of himself when his father is throwing a party, like he’s scared to say or do something wrong.

_ Muggleborn maybe? _

“You don’t know much about the Wizarding World do you?” The words leave Draco’s mouth before he can think twice about them.  

The boy hesitantly shakes his head in response. 

A small smile starts to tug at the corners of Draco’s mouth. This dreaded shopping trip might actually turn into something more interesting after all.

The two boys spend the remainder of their fitting trading information back and forth about the wizarding world and the muggle world. By the time Madam Malkin is finished Draco is fairly certain his father must be wrong about the muggle world and those who come from it. 

Waving goodbye to the boy and the large man escorting him around, Hagrid, the boy had called him, Draco wishes that he’d had the presence of mind to ask for his name. Draco’s father is gone by the time he’s emerged from the fitting room and he’s not ashamed to admit to being relieved. He shrugs his shoulders and walks to Ollivander's, three shops down where his mother is waiting for him. 

 

<><><>

 

The bell rings cheerily above Draco when he slips into the dust-filled shop, and two heads turn to look at the door as he enters. His mother and Ollivander straighten from where they’re hunched over her wand whispering.  

“Draco, love, how was Madam Malkin’s?”

He takes a moment to rub at the tip of his nose, the dust bringing forth a sudden need to sneeze, before answering.

“It was good. I met a boy from a muggle family.” 

Though Draco is aware his father despises muggles and muggleborn alike, his mother has never discouraged his fascination with them. Which is how he spends a whole thirty minutes talking to her and Mister Ollivander about the dark haired boy with emerald eyes and all the muggle things he learned.  

Narcissa places and hand on his shoulder, affectionately rubbing at it as she speaks,

“How wonderful Draco, I’m so very glad you made a friend. Though we really must get your wand and return to the Manor. You know how your father gets.” 

Pouting slightly Draco nods and steps forward to take the wand Ollivander is offering him.

  
  


The very first thing Draco notices about the wand in his hands is the way it itches, he looks at it then to his mother and back at the wand. No wand has ever itched before. 

“Give it a wave, child. You can do no harm I cannot right.” Ollivander smiles gently at Draco as he says this. Hoping Ollivander is speaking the truth, Draco waves the itchy wand, pointing it at the cracked mirror across the shop.

The crack in the mirror slowly disappears in a series of ripples and for a moment Draco thinks he might actually have to use the itchy wand for the rest of his schooling, but just for a moment. The mirror continues to ripple, the glass and silver beneath it vibrating at such a frequency that the whole thing suddenly pops free from the frame and crashes to the floor where it breaks into hundreds of little shards. 

Hastily setting the wand back on the countertop, Draco takes a step back for safety and looks sheepishly up and Ollivander.

“I think it’s safe to say that one did not work, Ollivander. Perhaps you should have listened to me.” Narcissa cocks a hip out to the side and waves her wand at the mess, fixing the mirror with a simple flick of her wrist and an arched eyebrow at the old wandmaker.

“Perhaps I should have. Let’s try a different one, shall we?” 

Ollivander holds out a second box, offering Draco yet another wand to test. Before grasping the wand he looks at this one, noticing the slight differences between it and the first. 

It’s lighter in colour than the prior one, more of a maple than the red that the first had been, and much shorter too.

“Sir, what is this wand made of?” Draco picks up the short, stumpy wand as he asks the question, observing how it feels in his hand before doing anything else with it.

“You are holding wand made of maple wood with a dragon heartstring core. It is six and a half inches long. An interesting combination is it not?” 

Draco hums and waves at a stack of papers on the table just behind the wandmaker. 

The papers promptly burst into flame. 

Panicking Draco drops the wand at his feet, while Ollivander puts the fire out. Swallowing past the lump in his throat Draco asks him a second question,

“Interesting though incorrect for me I think. What was the first wand?” 

Chuckling Ollivander disappears into the back before emerging with a blue dusty box.

“It was redwood with a dragon heartstring. Though I do believe your mother was quite right, let us try this one.” 

Taking a moment to peek inside the box Draco asks the same question as before, though this time with some hesitation. The dragon heartstring has not agreed with him thus far, he’d hate to tell Ollivander how to do his job but if this wand possesses the same core as the ones he’s tried Draco may need to speak up.

“And this one, what is it made of?” 

“Such a curious child you are. The wand before you is a ten-inch hawthorn wand with a unicorn hair core. Worth a try eh?”

Draco narrows his eyes at being called a child, he is one, but that’s not the point. Despite his ire, he reaches forward and carefully cradles the wand in his hand. 

It settles nicely in his hand. The smooth wood warms quickly to match the heat his skin is giving off. Grasping it more firmly in his hand Draco turns to wave it at the dead flowers near the door; the worst he can think of happening is the vase exploding. Surprisingly enough colour returns to the flowers, the grey tinted leaves turning a bright green and the petals returning to a soft pink once more. 

Smiling broadly Draco turns to his mother, and despite the smile on her face, her eyes are troubled. 

“Mother?” 

The little sunburst of pride in his chest dies a little looking at her.

She notices, and jumps to fix it.

“It’s nothing darling, that’s a wonderful wand.” 

Draco is sure to keep the smile on his face, not so big that it appears fake, but not so small that it comes across as timid. It won't do to have them both return to the manor in low spirits.

 

<><><>

 

It’s been two hours since Ollivander’s and Draco’s feet are starting to ache from all the shopping his mother is doing. The ice cream she bought him does help a little bit, but he’d much rather be home reading one of his new books. 

Narcissa stops at yet another flower stall, taking more time than is strictly necessary to smell all the different flowers. Shifting from foot to foot, Draco looks around for something more interesting to capture his attention than the same flowers he’s seen ten times that day.

Just when he’s certain his brain will turn to goo if he hears one thing about the peonies, a small sound from the alley catches his ear. He glances up at his mother, checking to be sure she won’t miss him, before slipping away to investigate the dark alley.

  
  


The narrow space smells of piss and spoiled vegetables. Wrinkling his nose at the combination Draco’s just about to turn back, certain the smell isn’t worth whatever he might find, but he hears the small sound again. Taking another lick of ice cream, he steps further in to look for the source of the cry. 

It takes him a few minutes to find it, and even so he finds it by accident. 

Draco trips over a can while trying to avoid a puddle on the alley cobblestones, and knocks over a stack of boxes. Underneath the bottom box is a small  _ kitten _ . 

Crouching down he slowly reaches out to pet it, taking care to be cautious with the stray like their gardener taught him years ago. The kitten shows no signs of lashing out or running away, so Draco shuffles closer and gently touches two fingers to the top of its head. He trails the two fingers down the creature’s head and halfway down its back before slowly repeating the process.

He’s not sure how long he’s crouched there, gently petting the kitten, before the thing staggers to its feet and makes to climb into his lap. Unsure as to what he’s meant to do, Draco helps it into his lap where he continues to pet it. It’s not long before he’s rewarded with a series of purrs. Certain the kitten won't bite him, Draco’s pets become a little less hesitant and more exploratory.

Maybe his mother will let him take the kitten to school instead of that awful owl his father got him.

  
  


It’s there that his mother finds him, the dirty stray kitten curled in a ball in his lap, ice cream long forgotten and melted all over his free hand. 

“Draco! There you are! What were you thinking walking away like that?” 

Not daring to look up from the soft creature in his lap, Draco calls his mother over; 

“Mother, look at what I found!” 

She makes no move to follow him into the depths of the alley, instead choosing to stand at the mouth of it.

“Can’t you come show me, dear?” 

“Mother,  _ please _ ? I don’t want to scare it any.” 

He hears her huff and the slow hesitant click of her shoes on the cobblestones as she picks her way carefully around the puddles and rubbish littering the alley.

“What do you mean ‘it’ darling?” 

Draco gently turns, kitten still curled in his lap purring contently, and proudly shows her his treasure.

“Can I keep it?” He strokes a finger between its eyes as he asks, “It’s just a baby, mother. And it hasn’t tried to bite me or  _ anything _ .”

She crouches down next to Draco to take a closer look at the kitten in her son’s lap. Placing a gloved hand gently on his back to steady herself, Narcissa is surprised to see that the kitten is at least half kneazle, if the little tuft of fur on the end of its tail is anything to go by, that is. 

“Are you sure, Draco? A kitten is a lot of responsibility, and you are starting at Hogwarts tomorrow, love.”

The kitten nudges Draco’s hand to encourage him to resume petting, and Narcissa knows she’s lost this battle. Hardly surprising, really.

“Please, mother? I promise to take care of it.”

Sighing she pulls the kitten from his lap, settling it in her arms before standing. Draco looks up at her with his big grey eyes, so much like Lucius’ and yet so very different. 

“Let me tell your father.” 


End file.
